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Sharon Stone as Gloria and Jean-Luke Figueroa in Lumet’s GLORIA (1999)
So often we carelessly conflate the terms ‘remake’ and ‘rendition’ as if they were equitably exchangeable, and in doing so encourage hostility, ignorance, and baseless judgments fueled by blind allegiance to the idea of originality. The effect magnifies considerably if the original work in question is a beloved touchstone of American cinema, a direct reflection of our own egoism. To explore such hypocrisy is astounding — foreign films are continually remade eye for eye or adapted for the American screen without any protest, but to threaten the sanctity and stature of one of our own greats brings just the opposite reaction.
Few films epitomize this better than 1999’s GLORIA, Lumet’s own personal spin on the 1980 eponymous Cassavetes classic. Save for three or so principal players and its general plot thread, the two films share just a handful of overlap — yet, to the impulsively pugnacious, a shared title alone is grounds enough to irreparably mar its reputation beyond repair, worse still if those doing so are mistakenly advertising it as a remake. Lumet’s film deviates and detours in ways completely opposite to Cassavetes’, involving new characters to flesh out other facets of emotion in both the story and characters. Some beginning shots are purposefully mirrored to pay homage, of course — but this is not a continual theme. The road diverts rather abruptly, thrusting Stone’s Gloria down a very different path than that of Rowlands’. The most obsequious ones appear as added characters and storylines. Even Gloria is afforded a completely different backstory: no longer is she the mysterious neighbor but a gangster out on Florida parole, having done time for a manipulative boyfriend (also an addition). Nor does Rowlands’ Gloria ever have to pull a stick-up on her boyfriend and his friends in order to retrieve the child.
In no way is Lumet attempting revisionism in the slightest, something other de-criers may spuriously claim at the behest of this notion of “originality.” Instead, Lumet molds it into a story of his own telling, one that pays tribute through creative exploration. He tightens the meandering pace of the 1980 film and by reshaping Gloria with more depth and vulnerability, fertilizes the subtext to reckon more overtly with gender, identity, and sexism. Equating this to Stone’s own struggles within the industry is a brilliant metatextual inclusion that plays upon her own anger, and in inhabiting the role she can achieve a sort of cathartic revenge. Her performance in harrowing moments is breathtakingly visceral. In these specific instances, we witness an emotional exorcism of sorts: Stone cries, screams, thrashes, snarls, and throws herself at her assailants with electrifying intensity, moments that often left me speechless.
Also in signature Lumet fashion, he heightens pre-existing comedic notions to great effect. Everything is hyperbolic, from Stone’s obviously put-on Rowlands impression to the lengthy car chases. It’s most evident, however, in the callously endearing exchanges between Gloria and the boy, and for me heightens the chemistry between the two. Stone’s world-weary cynicism hilariously gels with Nicky’s inherited machismo, and in a way it becomes a sly and subversive battle of the sexes. Nicky continues to assert that he’s “the Man,” but comes to witness firsthand the hardened violence of the gang, all self-proclaimed “Men” and eventually comes to reject their behaviors. It’s a touching addition, and one so subtle that it never feels preachy or unnecessarily heavy-handed.
Of course GLORIA is no NETWORK, nor can it accurately hold a candle to its predecessor as Lumet has made it into a story of his own — yet it’s far from the crock of shit that everybody makes it out to be. It’s far from perfect and often uneven and clunky in pacing, but the redeeming moments scintillate brilliantly and recall Lumet’s early genius. Worth watching for those who have seen the original, enjoyed it, and would like to see one luminary pay another a fun cinematic tribute.
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This will be part of an on-going review series, in which I plan to rehome my future reviews. I will still be posting and logging on Letterboxd, but only in excerpts that will ultimately redirect back to this page.
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